Once is never enough...
Imagine you are in some foreign country, and you come across a sign that seems to send a clear warning. You are on a dark street where you probably shouldn't be, and here is this black-and-white image of a dark-faced man warning you, pointing at you with his finger. You look at the words in this language you don't understand, and you chuckle. Except for all the strange marks around the letters, they are almost your language and they nearly match a meaningless cliche that people throw around the way they throw most words around far from danger: with nonchalance and a completely blissful ignorance of how a single word can damn or save. As I wove my way through the back alleys to my meeting with Sarp, I heard voices behind doorways, saw signs everywhere, and a great sense of foreboding spread over me. To be ignorant is sometimes to be blissful, but there was no bliss here. How did I get here? I was just a guy who was good with numbers who wanted a monthly paycheck and maybe a free trip to some exotic foreign country where people might say incomprehensible things but the meaning would be clear: you are safe and special and we are not here to kill you. The two men following me were just closing in as I found the meeting place and rushed upstairs, hoping that somehow an underworld crime lord might protect me.